


A bit of proper magic

by RafaelaFranzen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Magic, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19836052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RafaelaFranzen/pseuds/RafaelaFranzen
Summary: Aziraphale reaches behind Crowley's ear again. Crowley expects to be shown the same blasted shilling he's produced from his pocket for the last hundred and fifty years or so.What Aziraphale holds out to him is round, to be sure. Shiny, yes.But it is not the same shilling.





	A bit of proper magic

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned from a one-word prompt "ring" submitted by @lineslines. Enjoy!

He saw it coming a mile away. Those book-worn fingers reaching into the waistcoat pocket, curled just so to conceal in the space between the thumb and index. That dramatic reach behind his left ear.

It would be the silver shilling, of course. It had always been the same blasted shilling. A time-ensconced dance of theatrics followed by the roll of his eyes, an exasperated groan. Had Crowley been the confessional sort, he’d admit Aziraphale’s ritual of miracleless magic had taken on a warm patina of endearment over the years. Over the century and a half since the whole business of hat tricks and wand waving started, it’d been harder to restrain his lips from quirking up into a traitorous smile whenever Aziraphale managed the sleight without dropping the coin on the floor first.

For once, it might have been nice to let the grin within surface. But then again, doing so would have meant being the first to fall out of their syncopated quickstep. And really, where was the fun in that?

“Oh Angel. Not again. Please -”

He stared, eyes growing wide. 

It was not the same shilling.

Round, to be sure. Shiny, yes. But shillings didn’t come in bands set in silver and inlaid with interleaved ribbons of nickel-iron crystals that refracted the light, mined from the splintering of rock where planets crashed together.

A great many things were different besides. Absent were the undulating flourish of the angel’s wrist, the dramatic arch of eyebrows, the self-satisfied, face-splitting grin. In their place sat a tender smile and shining eyes. A careful sinking onto one knee.

Leaving the demon at a loss for words. That was new too.

“I know it’s been an awfully long time, ah, six millennia and a bit. But I thought, better late than never, and maybe if you’d like to. Uhm. Crowley, if you would ever so kindly do me the honour of – oh.”

This was the Aziraphale he was used to. The fretting, the half-smile that was a whisper of light against his frazzled nerves, the eyes that darted rapidly to the ring, the space of floor between them, and finally up to meet his gaping gaze. It’s in this cradle of familiarity that Crowley finally managed to find his voice where it’d been dropped, albeit a rattled shred of it that drew out in a squeak from his throat.

“Angel?”

“What I mean to say is, Crowley my dear, will you marry me?”

Even in dreams Crowley had beaten away entertaining the possibility. Delusions he’d snuffed out before they’d turned into haunting specters that taunted him from empty corners.

The expectant face canted up ever so slightly towards him, radiating hope and love was no ghost. In fact, the last four words that passed those lips might as well have exorcised every lingering wraith from his mind. It left behind only one emotion, bright and warm, curling around his heart and flushing his cheeks.

“ _Yes.”_ He’d finally found his legs enough to slide off the sofa, to clasp and encircle the Angel’s offered hands between his own. “I would love to, Aziraphale.”

“Oh would you?” Relief flooded through Aziraphale’s features, and back again was that full-fledged, brilliant flash of a smile. Fingers fumbled, much as they had in their journey from pocket to ear, to fit the ring onto Crowley’s hand. “Oh I’m so glad, I—mphm!”

_Could warm to the idea of being lost for words,_ Crowley thought. _Especially when you can make them disappear between locked lips_.

He had no doubt that this time, it’d definitely been a show of proper magic.

**Author's Note:**

> The ring Aziraphale proposes with is a [ titanium meteorite ring](https://jewelrybyjohan.com/collections/meteorite-rings/products/meteorite-titanium-ring-1240).


End file.
